One of the good things about India is that when you run out of things to blog about, poof, something new and adventurous happens. As you can guess, we had to go to the hospital this afternoon. In a battle between the scooter, E., and a puddle of mud, the mud won, sending the Vespa for a polishing and E. to the hospital for X-rays. But we waited 48 hours before going to the hospital, because, well, you know, E. is a guy, and guys are not always smart!
On Monday afternoon, he came back from work with a smirk on his face, a big wound on his forearm and a booboo on his foot. His ego was more bruised than the rest of his physical body, so we took care of the injuries at home. But the wound started looking nasty, and the foot was causing more pain.
I will spare you the part on our “international” medical insurance. Let’s just say that it’s not good. I am glad we have friends here who guided us towards a reputable facility.
Ganesh and Shiva welcome you to the Brookfield Hospital in Bangalore. You do need good luck!
At 3:01 pm, we get in line and pay 350 rupees to be seen by a doctor. 3:04 we sit in the lounge. 3:37 the doctor calls us. At 3:44, we are out of his office. He orders X-rays and a clean bandage. 3:45, we pay 250 rupees for the x-rays. 3:47, we are in the waiting room. 4:02, E. goes in for the x-rays and is out at 4:06. 4:13, I kill a mosquito. 4:17, the first doctor comes back. The foot is indeed broken and will probably require a cast. I laugh! We can still go on our mini-vacation with Steve next week he says. He orders a visit to the orthopedician (yes, that’s the name here) for this afternoon. 4:21, E gets a new dressing on his wound by a tiny petite nurse. Meanwhile, a smoke alarm is beeping, signifying it needs a new battery. 4:27, he comes out and is sent to a room called “day care” where he lies on a bed. Now I am hungry. A second smoke alarm chimes in. 4:56, the orthopedist walks in. “What happened Erick?” I can’t hear much but I hear my husband giggle and mention the bag of frozen peas I told him to apply to his foot last night. 5:00, the doctor explains to me that there is no need for a cast. I plead with him, because I really wanted everybody to decorate it Indian style! But no, no cast, bummer! 5:03, I go and pay the new doctor and small dressing bill for 425 rupees. The receptionist doesn’t have enough change, so she goes digging into her purse to give me those 5 rupees. 5:08, I am back next to the “day care” area. It really doesn’t smell like a hospital in here. A baby girl starts crying. 5:18, the snack area is unmanned. I think about taking a bag of cookies and leaving money but decide against it. I will just wait. 5:22, I now pay the pharmacy bill, 322 rupees for a bandage and some medicine. He has no change so I have to pay with a credit card. 5:26, I give the bandage I just bought to the nurse who hands it to a man standing with E. I think there was a foot massage but I am not sure. 5:29, the mother of the above mentioned baby girl changes her diaper right on the couch where I was sitting. 5:32, the male nurse walks out, E. puts his sandals back on. 5:36, we are back in the car.
It was clean, it was efficient, it was quiet, it was nice. And for less than 20 dollars, even without insurance. India rocks!
P.S.: I was told there was no foot massage, just a new bandage.